The Moment of Truth
by TwistedSky
Summary: Alex and Nikita plan a New Years get together to celebrate Alex's new life on the outside. Michael gets in the way. Alex plays therapist, and a new year begins.  Spoilers for 1x11. Happy-ish.


I disclaim! Just my way of saying hello to 2011, Mikita-style! Fluffy, because that brings me joy. I intend to get angsty later . . . but for now, a little more happy Mikita.

XXXXXX

There are moments that define people. Sometimes these moments roar into our lives, and sometimes we don't even notice them until they've long passed.

But there _are_ moments.

As Nikita stared at her computer screen she sighed.

Alex would never be the same. Her first kill had been someone she'd cared for deeply, someone she might have even been falling for—no matter how much Nikita had warned her not to—and that was a lot to deal with.

Alex was getting settled in an apartment a little ways away, and for now she was all alone.

Nikita was worried.

Not only had Alex just killed Thom, but now she was out in the world, by herself, around the holidays. The holidays were best spent with people, but when you decided to infiltrate a rogue division of the CIA . . . well, let's just say you were better off alone.

The days leading up to a new year were always difficult for Nikita, and she knew—through her communication with Alex—that they were difficult for her too. They spent quite a bit of time just being . . . friends. The mission was important, but for a few short days they pretended that it was okay to just be people, who spoke about holiday specials and broken hearts and a future they could only dream about. They did not, of course, talk about Michael.

Nikita knew that the first few weeks of Alex's "new life" were the most important, the ones where she'd be under surveillance almost non-stop. Soon they would meet up again, and Nikita could comfort Alex in person, and they could be a team.

Nikita didn't know what it was, but Alex brought out the motherly instincts in her.

XXXX

On New Year's Eve, Nikita messaged Alex, to confirm that they were still going to meet at the secret location they'd chosen so that whatever occurred neither one of them could necessarily be tied to the other, or to their places of residence.

She started to worry when Alex didn't respond. She checked her watch. They'd said they were going to confirm at 8 PM. It was already 8:30 PM. She got up and started to pace.

"Sorry," she heard Alex's voice and sighed with relief.

"It's okay. What happened?"

"Michael and Amanda showed up."

"A random check up? What did they say?"

"Apparently I should get out more," Nikita smiled at that.

"They want to make sure you can do your job properly." Which included being social at times, and being able to fit into the larger world.

"I know."

"Did they just leave?" Nikita asked.

"Amanda left, but she suggested that Michael stay so that I don't have to ring in the new year alone."

Nikita's head shot up at that. "Damn it."

"I know. What do I do?"

"Get him to leave. Then meet me at 11 like we planned. Unless you'd rather spend your time with Michael." Nikita was glad Alex couldn't hear the slightly jealous hint in her voice. Nikita leaned down to shut off the "Alex voice" because she didn't want to hear rejection, if that were her answer.

Nikita wasn't sure if she were jealous that Alex would choose to spend her time with Michael, or that Alex _could_ spend her time with Michael. Probably a bit of both. Nikita was lonely more often than not. It gave her plenty of time to focus on finding the black boxes, on taking down Division.

On wallowing in her pain over Daniel's death.

The worst part was _always_ that Nikita knew that she'd never been good enough for Daniel, that she _never_ should have gotten involved with him, she never should have fallen in love with him.

It had been a distraction, a _freedom_ from the sad truth of who she really was. She was a killer, she was dangerous, and she'd been in love with Michael.

Nikita knew quite well that were different types of love in the world. There were the obvious types, of family and friendship. But then there were the more complicated ones. Nikita knew with everything that she was that there were soulmates, and then there were the people you loved, who comforted you, who were your _excuse_. Daniel had been an excuse. He'd been an excuse to pull away from Division(from _Michael)_.

Daniel had died because Nikita had fallen in love with his simplicity, and the fact that he could drop everything and just _be._ He could make her forget, sometimes, about all the pain.

Michael _was_ her pain. But he was also her salvation, something she'd known almost instantly. He'd protected her—as he had so many others—but he'd opened up to her despite himself.

He'd loved her once, but they'd been kept apart by reality, by who they were, by _everything._

It didn't stop the regrets and pain from all coming together and making her feel like she deserved to suffer. She _hurt._ She didn't always show it, but she felt it. She'd once told Michael that he had no idea how much pain she could take, and she'd been talking about more than just physical pain.

This feeling . . . it was a sort of soulful torture.

Nikita shook herself free of her reverie and noticed that Alex had responded. "If I wanted to hang out with Michael, I would. But where would the fun be in that? Escaping him should be a challenge. And I miss you."

Nikita smiled. "I'll see you soon. Good luck." She would need it, Michael would be suspicious of her desire to get rid of him considering that she hadn't really left her apartment to do more than watch a movie(with Nikita, actually, it had been some Disney movie, to take the edge off) and shop for essentials. But Nikita knew Alex could do it.

As Nikita put on her coat, smiling at Alex's admission. Alex was her only friend, her only confidante—Owen didn't count, because although Nikita had finally accepted his partnership, he was off searching for black boxes, and . . . she wasn't going open up her heart to him. They were on their way to being friends, but they hadn't quite crossed that threshold yet.

All in due time, she reminded herself, putting her gloves on, anticipating the cold of the outside world.

XXXX

Alex sighed. She'd barely managed to get Michael to leave. She'd had to plead with him, saying that she was tired, that she wasn't really big on New Years, that she felt a little sick(that had almost made him refuse to leave, as he'd informed her that if she were sick she should be taken care of, but she'd quickly made things awkward by informing him that she was having 'lady pains'). She'd had to make things as awkward as humanly possible before he'd just _leave._

She'd known he was a bit suspicious, because it was written all over his face. He'd raised an eyebrow in the patently _Michael_ way and finally left though. She'd then had to rush and get ready to meet her mentor.

Nikita was her only real friend, she was _family_, and there wasn't a single other person—alive, anyway—that she would rather spend New Year's Eve with. Regardless of how insistent Nikita was that Michael would protect her(and even despite the evidence of his protectiveness) she could never quite trust him.

Alex tried to shake herself into the holiday mood, but she couldn't.

As she climbed out her window—just in case anyone happened to be watching—she fought off tears.

XXXX

Alex looked around before she walked down the hotel hallway, trying not to look suspicious, but also trying to make sure she wasn't being followed. She had a weird feeling, but she tried to assure herself it was just nerves. When she arrived at the right door she knocked with the "code" she and Nikita had established.

Nikita knocked back and Alex took one last look before opening the door and entering quickly, shutting the door behind herself. She then walked straight into Nikita's open and waiting arms and burst into tears.

Nikita stroked Alex's hair, "You're going to be okay, Alex."

"It doesn't feel like it. When—when Thom died he said that I would see him. That I wouldn't be able to ignore the fact that I—" another tear escaped at that—"I killed him. I—I was falling in love with him, Nikita. I know you said not to—"

Nikita just held Alex. "It was beyond your control. I'm sorry you had to do that. I'm sorry—I'm sorry that things turned out this way."

"It's not your fault." Alex pulled away, wiping away her tears. "I need to be strong. I can do this. I just—it's harder than I thought it would be."

"But you're up to the challenge, Alex. I believe that. And you should too." Nikita sat down on the bed next to what seemed to be a pile of snacks. "No alcohol, obviously. But we do have just about everything else, and we can watch the ball drop," Nikita nodded at the TV which was currently playing some sort of New Year's Eve special.

"Thank you," Alex replied softly.

"Why don't you go wash your face?" Alex refrained from pointing out that Nikita wasn't her mother, because it felt nice to have someone worry about her. So she merely smiled and walked into the bathroom.

Nikita listened as the water ran . . . and was surprised to hear a knock at the door to the hotel room she'd reserved just for her and Alex's time together. She'd requested that they not be disturbed, under any circumstances. She quirked her head. She took out her gun, walked quietly and carefully towards the door, and whipped it open, grabbing the person and pulling them in, shoving them against the wall as she shut the door again.

"Michael?" Nikita asked incredulously.

He looked at her, "Nikita."

She kept her arm under his head against his throat. "How did you find me?"

"Alex. She's good, but I'm better." He sighed. "Why am I not surprised that the two of you are . . . " he trailed off, and a look of disgust came over his face. "What are you doing, Nikita?" he asked, seeming resigned and more than a little tired. "Why couldn't you just let it go?"

"Let it go?" Nikita repeated. She stared into Michael's eyes. "You know I can't do that."

Michael looked surprised, mostly because he'd thought he'd cause an outburst, some anger that he might be able to use to escape her death grip.

"I know." Michael and Nikita just stared at each other, as if they were caught, and neither knew what would come next. "I shouldn't have come here," Michael said finally.

"No, you shouldn't have."

At that moment Alex finally exited the restroom—coming out near Michael and Nikita. She didn't seem to notice as she was speaking, "So I think I'm going to drown my feelings with food. I'm craving pie, I mean, I know that's a little strange but—" she turned and saw them. They both turned to face her. "Oh. Oops."

Nikita tilted her head and Michael raised an eyebrow, and Alex had to fight not to laugh. In the most awkward of situations she always felt the oddest desire to laugh. She forced it down. She stared back at them for a moment, narrowing her eyes.

"Maybe I should leave," Alex suggested. "There's some crazy sexual tension up in here. I don't think you need my company," she teased, trying to break the tension. This was awkward, and it was going to end badly. Now that Michael knew she was working with Nikita—and there was little chance that he didn't know—it was over. Unless he didn't go back to Division. But she really didn't want to kill him.

Alex was surprised to see the looks on Michael and Nikita's faces after her latest comment. She hadn't been serious, but maybe she should have been. A look of shock passed over her own face.

"Wow. You discover something new every day."

"Alex—" Nikita started to say.

"What's wrong with you two? What are you, like a modern day Romeo and Juliet?"

Nikita smiled slightly, "The tragic part seems accurate, but Romeo and Juliet have nothing on us."

Michael looked back at Nikita's face suddenly. "Nikita, I—"

Alex cleared her throat. "Um, so I was joking at first. But you guys are sending each other odd looks . . . what happened?" At that she sat down on the bed and grabbed a banana. Oh, Nikita and her need to have healthy options, always.

"It's complicated," Nikita replied, looking sadly into Michael's eyes.

Michael turned his face to avoid her gaze. "We should just get this over with."

"What? The part where someone _dies_? I'd rather not." Alex replied, in all seriousness.

"If Nikita wanted to kill me, she would."

"You know I don't want to."

"Maybe you should let Alex. Maybe it'll be easier for her. What did you do, Nikita, tell her exactly how to get under my skin?" The harshness in Michael's tone shook Alex to the core.

"She didn't. She just told me to be careful, not to get attached. She told me you'd protect me . . . because you're a good person."

"Good and evil are simple categories. They don't really exist."

"He says that," Nikita cut in, staring at him. "But he doesn't mean it."

Alex took another bite of her banana. When she stopped chewing she replied, "I think you guys are in love with each other. Which is kind of weird, because I didn't see _that_ coming."

"It's more complicated than that, Alex." Michael managed to say.

"So as we're just waiting here, avoiding the inevitable, why don't you explain it to me." Alex said firmly. "When Nikita left Division, why didn't you, Michael?"

"I couldn't."

"If you'd wanted to, you could have—"

"Alex, I try to make sure that the recruits we have don't lose all sense of what it means to be human, I try to keep them safe."

"Is that all?" Alex asked.

"No," Nikita responded for him. "It's more complicated than that." Michael looked at her, and an understanding seemed to pass between them. "He needed access to some of Division's information."

"Why?"

"Alex, please." Nikita pleaded with her.

Alex nodded her head. "If you really hate what Division does, then maybe you should just take it down, so that there aren't any more recruits to have to protect."

Michael closed his eyes and sighed. "It's not that simple. Division . . . it saved me."

"And maybe it's time you saved everyone _from_ it. You know what Percy is doing. You _know._ But you don't care." Nikita burst out, as if this was an argument they'd had many times before, Alex realized.

Alex's eyes widened. "Oh. You two have the most complicated relationship I've ever seen before."

"What relationship?" Nikita laughed sadly. Michael looked at her in surprise. "One of these days we were bound to end up like this."

"Honestly Michael, how could we _not_ end up like this? You blame me for Kasim, you blame me for hate me." Nikita said, obviously upset, her carefully constructed _façade _finally faltering.

"I never blamed you." Michael said softly.

"I couldn't let you die." Nikita whispered.

"I know. Maybe it would be easier if you had," Michael replied. "I can't-"

"Michael—" Alex started, trying to shift the focus off Nikita, "Are you in love with Nikita?"

Michael turned his head as far as he could toward Alex, and heard Nikita's breath hitch.

They had never said it in those words.

"Alex, stop." Nikita sighed. "Michael, you don't have to answer that."

"I could," he turned and smiled at her slightly, causing her to freeze in semi-terror.

"Say it." Alex demanded.

"Don't," Nikita pleaded.

"Alex, stop." Michael said instead.

Alex seemed to deflate. "That's upsetting." She toppled over on the bed and looked at the ceiling. "If I could turn back time and tell Thom how I felt about him, if I could undo everything, if I could just . . . I would. You two are fools." She closed her eyes, trying to trap the tears before they trickled out of the corners of her eyes.

Nikita glared at Michael. He merely raised an eyebrow in response. They seemed to have a battle of facial expressions to see who would talk to Alex.

Finally, Michael sighed. "Fine."

Alex sat up quickly at that. She smiled slightly. "Say it."

"What? I was—" he looked at Nikita who stared at him questioningly. He extracted one of his hands from underneath Nikita's and used it to cup her face. "I loved you, Nikita. I still do. But that doesn't change anything."

"Why not?" Alex interrupted, almost angrily. "Why doesn't it _change_ anything? Why? How is that fair?"

"Life isn't fair, Alex," Nikita replied sadly. She leaned into Michael's hand. "I love you too. You know that."

"I do," Michael sighed.

"Doesn't that mean something?" Alex demanded. "Doesn't it?"

Alex sighed. "This is such a mess."

"It is," Nikita agreed.

"What are we going to do?" Alex asked. "I can't do this." She hid her head against her knees.

"Ask Nikita. She's the one who has me up against the wall."

Nikita leaned forward and whispered in his ear so that Alex couldn't hear. "You know you like it."

Michael smiled.

Nikita shook her head and smiled sadly, "Why aren't you fighting me, Michael?"

"Because I'm afraid of what happens next."

"That's the most honest thing you've said in a really long time, isn't it?" Nikita rested her head against Michael's.

Alex looked up and Michael and Nikita—two people who had protected her, who had _believed _in her. And she didn't want either one of them to die. "Maybe we should tie him up and keep him."

"What?" Michael asked incredulously. "You know Amanda will get suspicious."

"Will she? I mean, I was in my apartment, sick. You left . . . maybe for medicine. And you ran into Nikita. Maybe she killed you."

"That's the most ridiculous plan I've ever heard," Michael practically grunted. Nikita elbowed him in the stomach. "Ow!"

Nikita raised an eyebrow. "What are our other options?"

And thus there was a _moment._ A moment when things could change, when a decision had to be made.

"Trust me." Michael said, and the moment was over, and now there was only the aftermath.

"To go back to Division and spill the beans?" Alex asked. "I don't think so."

"Trust me to stay with you, Nikita."

"Why, Michael? Why the change of heart?" Nikita asked.

In the background they could hear the cheering of the countdown to the new year.

Alex just sat, eating a potato chip as Michael managed to wrangle himself free of Nikita's grip, turn her around and kiss her. Alex fell over at that, and because of the stuff on the bed somehow managed to get turned over so that she fell off the bed altogether. Her head popped back up and she was surprised to see Michael and Nikita completely lost in each other.

"Well, Happy New Year!" Alex offered up.

They didn't respond.

"Okay then. I'm just going to, um . . . " she changed the channel to some random channel. "Ooh, SyFy." This would be a good distraction. Watching Michael and Nikita kiss was kind of like watching her parents kiss.

She smiled at that.

They were like the most ridiculous family ever. Or, well, they would be.

Alex shook her head. "You guys should probably stop." She smiled. "Oh look, the _Twilight Zone_ is on. I feel like I'm living that right now. Always fun."

Michael and Nikita finally pulled away from each other. "Michael—"

Michael placed a finger on her lips. Then he removed it, smiling, kissing her again, softly. "I think we should—" he motioned over at Alex.

"We should."

As if they'd planned it out beforehand they rushed across the room, and jumped onto the bed with Alex. Flanking her.

"No running in the hotel room!" Alex said as they surprised her. They met eyes over her head and silently declared a tickle war.

"Eek!" Alex cried out as she was attacked.

Alex smiled broadly. This was the perfect way to begin a new year. The future was dangerous, it would be difficult . . . but for now they had each other. That would make it easier.

As she contemplated this, Alex met Michael's eyes and they turned on Nikita. It was a tickle fight, and therefore turnabout was fair play.

And thus in the moment . . . the right choice was made, and a family was born.


End file.
